


Heirs of Greatness

by faespresso



Category: RWBY
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 06:22:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11845770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faespresso/pseuds/faespresso
Summary: Oscar Pine can’t wrap his head around this saving the world stuff. Especially since the voice in his head has memories of his world falling apart around him. He remembers a name, Pyrrha Nikos, and just so much guilt. Just why he feels so much guilt is past the young farmhand, it’s not like he wants him here anyways.It never occurred to him that maybe, that voice in his head is just as scared as he is.





	Heirs of Greatness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheGeekyArtist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGeekyArtist/gifts).



> So this originally started as a request from TheGeekyArtist on tumblr, you can see the post [here](https://quetozcoatl.tumblr.com/post/164358115362/for-the-title-heirs-of-greatness).
> 
> I decided to do more with it because I liked the summary so much. I tried to do the story title justice, and I think I did alright. Originally this story was going to be Oscar seeing Ruby and being like "what? why do you want to be a hero?" But I thought maybe more insight into Oscar's and Ozpin's minds was better. 
> 
> Somewhat inspired by [TigerMoon](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TigerMoon/pseuds/TigerMoon/works)'s work, seriously go check them out.

It’s one of those dreams again-- the one from that pesky headmaster who has decided to stay in his head completely out of the blue. What makes it worse is that he’s told him that it’s because their souls are combined.   
  
What rotten luck!   
  
Only this time, the dream is getting fuzzy, like the reception on auntie’s television before a storm hits or when it’s really windy out. The images and the sounds are garbled, but all he can make out is a bright splotch of red. The boy has never been able to control his dreams (he’s actually kinda jealous of the headmaster), but it never hurt to try. He reaches out to the image, seeing it as auntie’s TV, and gives it a whack.

The image turns crystal clear, and he’s  _ reeling _ . Why was he doing this? Why couldn’t he just let this dream go?    
  
“I just want to know what your deal is.” Oscar tells the headmaster. 

But he doesn’t want to see this. He doesn’t want to see this face, this memory, ever again. It’s a horrible memory, and it’s like he’s trapped, like he wants to wake up.

Turn it off, please turn it off… he thinks, and Oscar almost obeys.   
  
Almost.    
  
Instead he turns his full attention to the television-- no, the memory-- and stifles a cry seeing the face before him. It’s Pyrrha Nikos, from auntie’s gladiator shows! Oscar never cared for that, but sometimes he couldn’t help but sneak a peek. The sound is still really weird, and he reaches out to tamper with the sound, and then his hand is smacked away. He looks to see the offender, that bothersome headmaster. He doesn’t even so much as give the young boy a glare or anything, he just turns away and just walks. He didn’t even turn off the television. 

“H-hey...!” Oscar cries out, pushing himself up on his feet. “At least  _ talk  _ to me!” 

“I  _ tried  _ to tell you to stop!” The headmaster retorts, and a pang of guilt washed through the young boy. It’s true, he did try to stop but he persisted anyways. “I would have revealed this memory to you in time--”   
  
“Well, maybe I wanted to see it now because you don’t tell me anything! All I have is these dreams and you telling me to just go to Haven!” The young farmhand didn’t mean to snap, but geez, his close lipped attitude was really agitating. Maybe he wanted to know what was going on for once, since this was his life and not some adventure novel that he’s read over and over again. 

A moment of an uncomfortable silence passes between them.

“Do you truly wish to know?” The headmaster asks, his voice soft. 

“Yes!” 

The sound from the television becomes crystal clear, and the boy jolts. He looks to the moving picture, enthralled. The memory has restarted, and sometimes the audio is a little garbled (he swears that old man must be hard of hearing).

When the memory cuts out, with her looking at that girl in the glass coffin, he looks to the headmaster, who is looking off into the distance. 

“What happened?”

“To Pyrrha? She… was killed.”   
  
He feels the headmaster’s guilt as if it were his own, and what a heavy emotion it is.    
  
“...you feel responsible, don’t you?” The boy whispers.

“I do, even if I didn’t kill her myself.”

“Then why do you feel so bad?” 

A sigh escapes his lips, the sound of a tired old man. He looks at him with sorrowful amber eyes. 

“As I said, I will tell you in due time.”

“But now seems as good a time as any.”

Another uncomfortable silence, and the farmhand wants to scream. What’s so bad that he needs to hide it? He didn’t kill her, he didn’t kill or hurt anyone, so why does he still feel so horrible?!

“You must rest, Oscar.” He says, his voice sullen and soft.   
  
“No, tell me!” He protests.    
  
“You’ve had enough revelations for tonight.” He tells him. “I should not have monopolized your sleep like this. I am deeply sorry.”

Another apology! Where did it end with this guy? But even though he is a little bit annoyed, he can’t bring himself to be mad at the guy. He had no idea that this voice in his head had his own problems, his own feelings, his own burden. He at first thought that this was a case of those multiple personalities he’d heard of, but no, this was an actual human being just like him, with a life and friends and family…   
  
He clutches his head, the realization of it is a bit too much, just as he predicted. His skull is pounding, and all he can do is grit is teeth together and squeeze his eyes shut. Images of people’s faces flash before him, he can’t name any of them but they seem so familiar--   
  
A hand on his shoulder snaps him out of it, and almost instantly his headache is gone. 

“Who--” He doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence and is knocked out like a light. His sleep is dreamless, which is a respite from the enigmatic dreams he's been having lately. 

He wonders if he should be annoyed at the old professor, but he did sleep better than he had been in months...  


Maybe he isn't so bad after all. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> As always, feedback is appreciated!


End file.
